May the Best Jedi Win
by SireenC
Summary: This is a purely humor fic that was written by me and my little sister. ObiWan, Anakin, Mace, and Yoda decide to have a contest of the unusual variety...And ObiWan will do anything to win. Will it cost him his sanity?


Disclaimer: We, the humble people, do not own any of these characters…they are George Lucas's. Also, the quote we are going to add at the end of the note is not ours, but belongs to Matthew Stover, from (starting on) page 101.

Author Note: This is cowritten by Sireen and her little sister (whose twelve birthday is Thursday!) It started in an email from my sister, Peleus15, and we took turns back and forth in emails. After three pages, we printed it out and finished it by hand. This all came about from a quote from the third book of the Star Wars trilogy. Even if you only saw the movie, you will probably remember the part:

"Obi-Wan Kenobi opened his eyes to find himself staring at what he strongly suspected was Anakin's butt.

It looked like Anakin's butt--well, his pants, anyway--though it was thoroughly impossible for Obi-Wan to be certain, since he had never before had occasion to examine Anakin's butt upside down, which it currently appeared to be, nor from this rather uncomfortable close range.

And how he might have arrived at this angle and this range was entirely baffling.

He said, "Um, have I missed something?"

"Hang on," he heard Anakin say. "We're in a bit of a situation here."

So it was Anakin's butt after all. He supposed he might take a modicum of comfort from that."

It started from us laughing over that, to this…don't ask how.

May the Best Jedi Win

In the council

"Anakin, you dropped your lightsaber." Obi-Wan bent over and picked it up. "Oh, geez, Anakin, did you have to stick your butt in my face? I was doing you a favor and all I get is your big, fat butt in my face! Did you think I ever did that to Qui-Gon! Absolutely not! And, my god, could your pants be any tighter?"

The whole council stared unblinking.

"I am very sorry, Master."

"Um…Anyway, what were you saying, Master Yoda?"

Yoda, still unblinking, continued to talk.

Obi-Wan muttered, "Hey, where did you get those tight pants, anyhow? I think they would look fab-tabulous on my butt...I've been working out, ya know…"

Anakin responded, equally as quiet, as they were in front of the council, "They were old pants of Qui-Gon that I found..."

Mortified, Obi-Wan exclaimed, "What! You're wearing an old guy's pants? Although…" he gave a thoughtful look, "they would look nice on Qui-Gon's bu...I mean! ..." He blushed. "Ahem...go on, Master Yoda...yes, I was listening! Hey, watch where you point that stick!"

"Listen you will!" Yoda yelled, whacking Obi-Wan a good couple times on the knee cap with his walking stick. "Talk about tight pants, you will not...for right now you have a mission...Later we will talk about tight pants and see who has the tightest of all pants."

"Oh good I can win!" Mace Windu said cheerfully, but quietly to himself.

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise, and Anakin could only stare at the small master. He always thought Yoda...excuse him...Master Yoda was slightly weird, after all he was green. Wouldn't you be weird if you were green? Though he never thought, no, he never even in his sickest dreams thought of Yoda wearing tight pants.

"Excuse me, Master," Obi-Wan said politely.

"If argue over tight pants you are, contest we shall have. Then find who has the tightest pant of all we shall find out," Yoda said, tapping his stick firmly on the ground to emphasize his point. Obi-Wan stepped back a few steps to be out of whacking range of the little master. "Tomorrow, a contest we shall have."

"What about the mission?" Anakin protested, clearly thinking that Yoda had snapped.

"Forget mission, not important," Yoda said and dismissed the two Jedi.

"Master, I think I am going to be ill."

Obi-Wan looked over at his padawan with concern as they walked down the hall that led away from the council room. Indeed, Anakin was looking slightly pale, his eyes a little watery. "What is the matter, Anakin?"

"It's just...I mean, it's okay for me to wear tight pants...I'm young and manly and in shape. Even you, too, to an extent. cough But...Yoda? Do they even make pants that small?"

Obi-Wan sighed. He understood his poor padawan. "Actually, I once caught sight of a slip from a hemstress who specializes in unusual sizes. He pays an extraordinary amount, but he can get pants with any fit he wants. Although, at the time, I had no idea what kind of pants he bought there..." he trailed off and shuddered.

"What are we going to do? If I have to see Mace and Yoda in skin tight pants tomorrow, I am seriously going to barf," Anakin deadpanned to Obi-Wan, and his master knew with certainty that the young man was not kidding. In fact, he found his mind echoing the exact words.

"The only thing we can do, Ani," Obi-Wan sighed. He looked ahead with grim determination. "We must meditate and ask the force for guidance, for steel stomachs, and for the tightest pants of all."

Anakin nodded his agreement. "Yes, Master, I agree."

Obi-Wan suddenly smiled, a rare sight. He even laughed. Anakin looked at him as if he was mad. "Master?"

"I have the greatest idea ever!" he exclaimed. "Tonight we will sneak into Mace Windu's room and steal every one of his tight pants. Then next we will stop at Yoda's room and steal his pants also. They cannot attend the contest if they have no pants to wear!"

"Are you sure, Master? I mean they could lie and say that their pants were so tight that you couldn't see them and then not wear any pants at all." Anakin grimaced.

Obi-Wan felt his dinner coming back up his throat and thought about hurling it on Anakin for even voicing such a sick comment out loud, but held it in check. "Anakin, they will be in such an uproar looking for their pants that the idea will not cross their minds," Obi-Wan reassured him.

"In that case, I am in, Master," Anakin said happily.

"Good, I will see you tonight. Good-bye," Obi-Wan replied. He hoped that their plan would work.

Slowly, nighttime fell upon the city of Coruscant. Most of the Jedi were already tucked away in their rooms, ready to fall asleep. The exceptions were Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Both were quite awake and ready to go out on a mission. Obi-Wan had gleefully named this mission, Mission: We Are So Going to Win This Contest. Anakin was becoming concerned for his master.

"Master, are you sure you are feeling all right?" he asked for the fifth time.

"Yes, Anakin, I am fine! Now, hurry and finish dressing! We don't have time to lose!"

"But is all this really necessary? I mean, I can understand the black clothes...but black masks? I can barely see. And gloves? And black socks with no boots?"

"The masks have eye holes; your skin is so white that it practically glows in the dark; and your boots squeak! Do you want either of them to wake up while we're digging through their closets?"

"Well, no...Master, was Qui-Gon ever that obsessive over winning...like you are?"

"Qui-Gon, nor I, was obsessive over winning." Obi-Wan was firm. "A Jedi is humble. We do not let pride or our egos overcome us. Now, come along. If we don't win this thing tomorrow, you will be doing one hundred laps around the temple. Like Qui-Gon always said, 'May the best Jedi win...and we all know I am the best Jedi.'"

Anakin stared in disbelief as Obi-Wan uttered those words and pranced out of the room. Then he snapped out of it and followed swiftly. This was going to be an interesting night.

Once they were out of the room, Obi-Wan started to skip quickly down the hall, falling once or twice because his socks were so slippery. Then he picked himself back up and continued on down the hallway, only to stop abruptly. Anakin slammed into his back, because he had been not paying attention, too ashamed to have his Master acting so childish.

"Wait a moment!" he whispered. "I forgot something!"

As quick as lightening, Obi-Wan ran back to his room and then ran back toward Anakin with a stick in his hands. He attempted to stop beside Anakin, but his socks made him keep sliding passed his padawan.

"Blast!" he cried and slammed into the wall. Anakin cringed. "Are you all right, Master?" he asked.

"Yes, I am fine," Obi-Wan huffed, and they continued until they got to Mace Windu's room.

"Master, what is the stick for?" Anakin questioned.

"Do you really think I want to touch Mace's pants?" Obi-Wan asked, horrified.

They entered the room quietly to find Mace Windu snoring up a storm. Anakin covered his ears and pointed out Mace Windu's closet to Obi-Wan. They crept over, and it opened with a squeak, but the sound was lost in Mace Windu's snoring. There hung a row of ten pants, all skin tight.

"Whoa!" Obi-Wan whispered. They set to work, Anakin getting Mace Windu's pants onto the stick and putting them in the bag Obi-Wan had brought. Once Mace starting sleeping walking toward them, and Obi-Wan ran away.

"Anakin, save yourself!" his master cried as he went out the door. Anakin stood horrified before grabbing the last pair of pants and running after his Master. They ran out the door, and it banged shut behind them.

Inside the room, Mace awoke from his sleep walking and went back to bed.

One down, one to go. This would be the ultimate test of cunning, of strength, of Jedi superiority...

"Master, are you sure you are all right?"

"Anakin! Yes...well, look at it this way...how 'all right' would you be after Mace came at you, sleep walking, in the middle of the night?"

"Point taken, Master."

"That's what I thought, punk! I mean!" Obi-Wan hastily backtracked, "I mean, good boy, Anakin... pat, pat ."

"Master...did you just pat me on the head?"

"Heh, heh...oh, look, Ani...The chambers from hell!"

Anakin took a deep breath and forced himself to look upon the Chambers from Hell. Somewhere inside the room was a being one, one-millionth the size of said room, slumbering peacefully...Anakin shuddered. "Master, do I have to? I mean, you could probably do it yourself..."

"No, Anakin, we must work together. I am your Master, and you must do what I say...Now you go first!"

'Maybe he's turning to the Dark Side,' Anakin mused as he stealthily crept to the door. Silently, he turned the knob and opened the door. It swung open with no sound. Swallowing hard, he walked inside, Obi-Wan trailing.

Yoda was sleeping on the bed in the middle of the room. His closet was off to the side. Together they walked over to it, keeping a wary eye on the little Jedi. Obi-Wan pulled open the door...to reveal three floor to ceiling stacks of miniature leather pants! Anakin's gag reflexes caught him unaware, and he slapped a hand over his mouth and ran from the room, leaving Obi-Wan to collect the pants. Twenty minutes later, and with a distinctively green face, Obi-Wan closed the bag and left the room. Unfortunately, he never noticed the can of black paint at the corner of Yoda's bed. As the door shut, signaling the end of Obi-Wan and Anakin's night mission, Yoda smiled and went back to sleep.

The next morning Anakin awoke feeling very tired. He went to get breakfast, where he found Obi-Wan sitting at a table shoveling in food as fast as he could.

"Today's the day!" he said brightly. "Don't ask why I'm so excited. I already know that I will win!"

With those last words, Obi-Wan skipped out of the refectory singing, "La, la, la, la, laa…" as he went. The masters all gave him weird looks then turned toward Anakin, who ducked down in his seat. He ate quickly and hurried out of the room.

Mace Windu awoke to find every one of his tight pants gone. He ran around the room, throwing things, but none were to be found. "I know!" he exclaimed. "Surely I wear the same size as Obi-Wan, maybe even closer to Anakin! I will go steal all of his pants and wear one of them to the contest."

Anakin returned to his room to find all of his tight pants gone. He gasped and ran to Obi-Wan's room and pounded on the door.

"They're gone!" he exclaimed.

"Ha, ha, ha! Now you have none!" Obi-Wan pranced around his padawan. He stopped and folded his hands, becoming serious. "You could wear Mace's pants. I doubt you would fit into Yoda's."

Anakin faced the problem like a Jedi and did what he must. "I shall wear them," he declared solemnly.

Yoda awoke, but the fact that his pants were gone was no surprise. He already knew all his tight pants--well, all his pants, because he only wore tight ones--were stolen. Calmly, chuckling to himself, he bent down and grabbed the bucket of black pant. He had some preparation to do before the contest. As an old padawan of his once said, "May the best Jedi win…and we all know I am the best Jedi."

"Bring it on, Master Kenobi," Yoda cackled. "Kick all your butts, I will. Have the tightest pants…I definitely will. Much tighter than your pants, this paint will be."

Anakin, who had been walking passed Yoda's room, heard him. He ran quickly back to Obi-Wan to see him heading for the Room of a Thousand Fountains, where the contest would be held.

"Master!" Anakin yelled. "Yoda, he's, he's…" Anakin panted for breath.

"He's a small, green master who thinks he rules the world, just him and his stick!" Obi-Wan finished for his padawan. Anakin shook his head.

"No, Master!" he cried. "Yoda painted his pants on!"

"Are you serious?" Obi-Wan shouted. Anakin nodded. "Cross your heart and hope to die?"

"Er..yes, Master," Anakin replied.

"Blast! You're serious, or you would have dropped dead!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. He thought for a minute. "Easily solved, my young punk…er, apprentice!" he corrected. "You will get a bucket of water and hide behind the door. Then, when I bow to Yoda, you will throw the bucket of water onto Yoda's freshly-painted pants." Obi-Wan smiled, quite proud of himself.

"Um…yes, Master," Anakin agreed.

The time arrived. Mace, wearing Anakin's pants, struggled down the hallway. For once, he had been wrong--he did not wear the same size as Anakin. In fact, he really did not wear the same size. If he were to bend over, the seams would probably split. Even so, this was not necessarily a bad thing; after all, the tighter, the better.

Anakin and Obi-Wan were already in the room. Obi-Wan, in his sinfully tight pants, was rubbing his hands together joyfully, grinning as he congratulated himself on being so clever and so in shape. The pants looked hot, he just knew. On the other hand, Anakin was sulking. In his opinion, the whole situation had gotten out of hand. He was hiding behind the door with a bucket of water, waiting for the stupid troll to come. The worst part was, Anakin's pants were not remotely tight!

'Why does Windu have to be so blasted fat?' Anakin wondered darkly. They were baggy everywhere, especially in the back. 'And Master thought I have a big butt…Mace's must be flabby! I will refer to him as Flabby Patty in my diary…err, journal! from now on.'

And, of course, the master of all Jedi, Yoda, was heading for the contest room. Why be late, when he was sure to win? How could he lose, with painted pants? Yoda could not wait to see the looks on their faces when he entered with his "pants." He would just have to careful. The paint was still a little wet.

Yoda arrived before Mace. Confidently, he opened the door…

He stepped in front of Obi-Wan, and the master smiled. "Good morning, Master Yoda," he bowed. Anakin let the water fly. It flew in a neat arch through the air before gravity grabbed it and yanked it all over Yoda, just as planned. Obi-Wan then lifted the little master and dunked him in the fountain. Yoda whacked his across the head a couple of times before Obi-Wan let go.

Mace Windu walked in to see Obi-Wan, what it looked like, trying to drown Master Yoda. 'He must have had tighter pants,' thought Mace. 'Doesn't matter now, mine are even tighter.'

"My pants!" Anakin gasped and pointed at Mace.

"My pants!" shouted Mace, pointing at Anakin.

Obi-Wan stepped back and grinned at Yoda. "You have no pants now. I have won."

"Hey! What do you mean, you have won?" Mace shouted. "I would have to say my pants are pretty blasted tight!"

"He does have a point, Master," Anakin spoke up.

"Hey, punk, shut up!" Obi-Wan yelled. He cleared his throat. "Mace, those pants do not fit. Also, they are not yours. Therefore, they do not qualify."

"What do you mean?" Mace cried. "That wasn't specified in the rules. In fact, there were no rules! And what, you are allowed to murder Yoda because he beat you?"

"I wasn't murdering the tro--err, Yoda," Obi-Wan corrected. "I was cutting down the competition. Not that he could be cut down any farther," he muttered. "I declared myself the winner, and there is nothing either of you can do about it! Oh, how proud Qui-Gon would be! His padawan has the tightest pants!" He looked overjoyed.

Anakin and Mace exchanged a glance. Anakin muttered, "I think he's lost it." Mace nodded in agreement.

That evening as Obi-Wan skipped around the temple's halls, singing about tight pants, the other masters gave him weird looks. When they saw the bruises on his face, they figured that he had had a disagreement with Yoda and had lost, meeting his stick up close and personal. They also realized that those last few whacks to the skull had finally made him lose it.

The End!

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A wonderful reviewer (Rufwardo) has informed me that the chapter I had up for thank you's alone was banned from so I had to delete it so I wouldn't get in trouble. But a great big thank you to everyone that has and possibly will read and review this story (and really, even read :) ), from the bottom of my and Peleus's heart. Thanks! You guys are awesome!


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